A lesson related to the author by his
95 year old grandmother, an Italian
immigrant, in broken English.
circa 1974.

"Johnnny".. she said,
"Yes nonna", I replied
"You sitta down with me here, I'm
a gonna tell you something". She said
while pulling a chair out from
the table.
"Yes nonna" . I said, sitting down
myself with her and looking up while
taking her hand.

"You knowa, the people, they always
so a busy", she said while patting
my hand that I had placed in hers.
"I tella you something now", I gazed
at her with love and admiration;
as in my heart she walked above ground.
"The days goa slow, and the years go fast".
she said while nodding her head
and looking me straight in the eye with
clear blue eyes that had seen more
life in one day than most do in year.

I looked back at her, not knowing
what to say to that.  I was puzzled,
and I asked, "What does that mean
nonna"?  She looked back at me, and
said again, "The daysa, they go
slow, but the years goa fast".
I nodded at her this time,  taking in
what she said and thinking how much
I loved her.  She was maybe 5 feet
tall and portly, a round face with
white hair combed back to collar
length with swollen ankles. She
was the most beautiful woman I had ever
seen in my life.  We went on
talking a bit, I do not even remember
what was said.  It was hard to
communicate with her broken English.
I remember that day with all my
soul and decided at 14 years of
age I was going to learn to speak
Italian so I could talk to her.
I learned in college and it completely
changed my life.  Opening up
her heart in her native tongue
and being able to spend more time
with her because I understood her
when she spoke cannot even begin
to be measured.  I can tell you
this; I loved her very very much.
When she died, my mother was apoplectic.
She could not reconcile her death.
She too knew what a beautiful soul
my nonna, her mother was.  One night
after she died my nonna came to me
 in a dream.  It was a sunny day and
I was sitting on a park bench
along a sidewalk.  My nonna walked
up to me, wearing the blue dress
she always wore.  She sat down
next to me and I asked her how she
was.  She was fine she said, and
the conversation had an air of
peace about it.  She was well and
wanted to let me know.  After a
bit, she got up and walked away
in the direction she had come.
I had a sense of peace when I awoke,
and I think she knew what I would do
with our meeting.  When I told my mom
about the dream, she was able to
sleep and had a sense of peace about
the passing of her mother.  My mother
told me years later that after
that, she was able to sleep again,
knowing her mother was alright.

How can I relate to you what all
this means. All I can tell you is
I loved her.

John Sciabbarrasi

The Gypsy

note to you, the reader..
this is actually a song. I
have the melody in my head
but not on paper. It will be
forthcoming soon.  John the
author is a  39 year old white male.

At a time when a gypsy...
Seeks to find his name
At a time when a my-et-ry
Reveals itself to the same

I wonder why I feel
I wonder why I breathe.
I wonder why all my hopes and dreams
Get caught up inside of me...

A time of a furlough.
A time of drastic need.
A Tiiime when the gypsy
Needs to be set free

The worker of his craft
The passion of his art
His.. way of rolling
Is what sets him apart

I can feel a summer breeze
Whippin through my hair
My blood runs blue through me
And I don't even care

I'm sooo much in love
With my craft and my art
But my way of rolling
Has always set me  apa-a-art

Then I met a soul..
somewhere close to mine
Her way of living.
Kept movin' her down the line

She said her name was Nancy
..and I told her mine
The emptiness of nothing
Kept movin' us down the line

Ohhhoh whyyyy?
OHhhoh whyy?!

My soul has wandered Painfully
All accross my heart.
Nowww the very thing we shared
Is what set us apart

The burden of her voyage.
The quest of her fate
The Pain of wandering aim-less-ly
No matter what direction you state

I know of her resistance.
Yet I couldn't shooow
Alll the lessons taught to me
If she didn't already know..

OOhh, OOhh Nancy..
Tonight I Pray For YOU
My Prayer Is One of peace and Love
And I hope you let it through

OOhh, OOhh Nancy,
Na-a-anncy,
Protect against all,
Protect against all.

by John Sciabbarrasi

Is This Love

Is this love
It couldn't be
It can't be happening
To me

I'm much too young
I haven't learned
What I need
And what I yearn

Shall it pass
Shall I stray...
Tomorrow is
Another day

I think I'll keep it
While I can
And when she leaves
I'll be a man

by John Sciabbarrasi

Life

Life is a woman
And if she smiles upon you
A woman
Is your life

    

by, John Sciabbarrasi